Robert Engelman is a Ph.D. candidate in Philosophy at Vanderbilt University. His research interests are in social and political philosophy, 19th and 20th century philosophy, and aesthetics.
1. What excites you about philosophy?
Philosophizing well increasingly strikes me as involving creative practices of carefully and honestly attending to and reflecting upon one’s experience and its objects, including philosophical texts and conversations. This might be because philosophical method is an object of philosophical scrutiny, and because good philosophy is both sensitive to and dextrous with the subtleties of its objects and the ways in which the latter can be engaged with (or not). Unlike in a range of other disciplines, in philosophy one is not required to adopt a particular method of inquiry, nor to engage with an object as a particular kind of phenomenon that fits neatly into such a method; abiding by any such supposed requirement in philosophy is dogmatic. Instead, we are called upon to develop and attune our methods, and thus, in a way, our selves, to our objects as we continue to find them—which opens the door for all kinds of surprises. That’s exciting to me.
2. What do you like to do outside work?
I won’t deny that there’s a certain pleasure in acting like a philosophy machine. But I enjoy my work and life much more when I make time for rewarding activities elsewhere, too. I grew up painting in my aunt’s studio, writing poetry, and playing guitar and bass for a few small musical projects, and I still make it a point to maintain consistent art practices in my life. My philosophical interests often spill into my art practices (and visa versa), but I find that pursuing similar themes through distinct practices and media really deepens your relationship to it all (the themes, the practices, the media, etc.). Witnessing others exercise their creative muscles is a major source of joy and inspiration for me as well, so I also make time to go to concerts, galleries, and other art events. Other than arts and letters, I like to hang out with Klee (my cat), stay active, and get out into nature—whether for a few hours or, when time permits, a few days.
3. What is your favorite book of all time? (Or top 3). Why? To whom would you recommend them?
My favorite two philosophical works are Wittgenstein’s Philosophical Investigations and Adorno’s Negative Dialectics. I blame them for my most cherished headaches. For works in what we often call ‘theoretical philosophy,’ they’re brazenly unsystematic—or better, anti-systematic—to the point of almost seeming to meander at times. But this “representation by digression,” as Benjamin puts it, is part of their charm and genius to me. I mean, what moves me most about them is the self-critical, moral seriousness with which they seek—as far as possible—to reflect upon what matters pre-reflectively, in light of reflection. That’s why these books look the way they do, and that’s what philosophy’s all about. And, similarly, they’ve taught me that grasping a philosophical problem means seeing how it’s entangled with some real, material problem(s), though such ‘entanglement’ can be surprisingly many and diverse things.
My favorite non-philosophy (which isn’t to say non-philosophical) book is a collection of Georg Büchner’s plays. It’s not his most acclaimed work, but Leonce und Lena is particularly dear to me—even more than Woyzeck, despite my love of Alban Berg. Büchner is a master at building relatable characters from economic dialogue. Leonce might as well be the ennui-stricken cousin of Dorian Gray, Hamlet, and Romeo; and Lena displays the understated knowingness of Desdemona and the judgment of Elizabeth Bennet. It’s charming, hilarious, and heartbreaking. Everyone should read it.
4. What would your childhood self say if someone told you that you would grow up to be a philosopher?
Initially, he’d be unimpressed at best. My elementary school English teacher once took a poem I’d written for her class and submitted it to the school’s newsletter without my knowing so; and my mathematics teacher, upon telling me that she read it, told me that I should become a writer when I grow up. “No way,” I told her, “I wouldn’t make enough money if I did that.” By that logic, of course, teaching wasn’t an option either. But, that said, my current self thinks differently about these things, and is trained to use the philosophical skill set. So I’m confident that I’d eventually convince my childhood self to go ahead with the whole philosophy thing.
5. If you could have a one-hour conversation with any philosopher or historical figure from any time, who would you pick and what topic would you choose?
I’d love an hour of sitting in the park, people-watching, and chatting casually about portraiture with Éduoard Manet. I’m captivated by the social and emotional subtleties of his figures and their faces; it would be a treat to look and see with him in real-time.
6. What is your least favorite type of fruit and why?
Imitation fruit—it’s tasteless.
7. What’s your poison? (Favorite drink.)
A double espresso with a very bubbly sparkling water on the side.
This section of the APA Blog is designed to get to know our fellow philosophers a little better. We’re including profiles of APA members that spotlight what captures their interest not only inside the office, but also outside of it. We’d love for you to be a part of it, so please contact us via the interview nomination form to nominate yourself or a friend.
Smrutipriya Pattnaik
Smrutipriya Pattnaik, Ph.D. in Social and Political Philosophy from IIT Indore, India serves as the Teaching Beat and Work/Life Balance editor for the APA Blog. Her research delves into utopia, social imagination, and politics, with a focus on the aftermath of socialist experiments on Liberal-Capitalist-Democratic societies. Currently authoring "Politics, Utopia, and Social Imagination."
